Guardian Angel
by ineap
Summary: Pitch has found a new weapon to rise against the guardians again, but they are soon to realize the weapon is flawed. Trigger Warning for PTSD: Seriously, don't. If you are looking for happiness...just get out. You will find none here. Co-written with my best friend, teakissedataraxia.
1. Intro

"North!" Bunnymund's voice echoed throughout the workshop, startling the man into dropping his newest ice creation.

He grumbled to himself as he made his way to his fellow guardian to see what was so important that he had to come unannounced. What he saw definitely wasn't expected. All of the guardians were gathered in the room, not just Bunny. "What is this?" He questioned his friends, having no idea why they had gathered in his home so unexpectedly.

"Why don't you tell us, mate. You're the one who called us here." At this North looked thoroughly confused.

"No I didn't." The five guardians looked between each other, waiting for someone to be able to explain what was going on.

"Maybe one of the elves or yetis did it?" Tooth suggested, but North shook his head 'no' immediately.

"They wouldn't have touched it. They know better than that."

"I believe I can offer an explanation." A silky voice not belonging to any of the guardians interjected and all heads turned to the globe.

"Pitch? Shouldn't you be hiding in a cave somewhere?" Jack taunted the man sitting atop the globe.

"Now, now Jack. Settle down. I'm not here to start a fight, only to talk." Pitch held his hands up in front of him defensively.

Bunny snorted, still gripping onto his boomerangs tightly. "Since when are you the talking type?"

"Since I have a proposition that you five may be interested in."The guardians looked at each other, wondering what Pitch could be up to this time, but not interrupting. "You see, I've been developing a new…" Pitch paused a moment to think of the proper word. "weapon of sorts. I think it would be in all of our best interests to come to an agreement rather than fight it out this time. It will take so much effort for me to finish the development and the five of you couldn't hope to defeat me once I've finished. We should just skip all that unpleasantness. Let's say, you hand over half of the world's children to me and I won't have to destroy all of you."

"We'd never give up a single child to you Pitch, no matter how much you threaten us." Tooth's feathers ruffled in anger at his suggestion that they could strike a deal.

"Oh really? It's too bad you already let me have one of your precious children. I believe he's right about…here." Pitch leaned to his left and jabbed his finger in the direction of New York City.

"What are you talking about? You don't have any believers, nobody's believed in you for years."

"That's where you're wrong, Jack. I have the only believer I'll need to defeat all of you. Such a beautiful boy that you all neglected over the years." Pitch cooed, disappearing into the shadows so he could reappear closer to the guardians. "It's such a shame you can't see into his mind like I can. Such a beautifully disturbed boy. But, I guess you will meet him soon if you don't want to accept my bargain. Remember, I offered you a way out. Everything that happens from this point is of your own doing."


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: We apologize for this chapter's shortness. Most of our chapters will be ridiculously long, but some of the beginning ones are harder to write since we're only just introducing the storyline and everything. Things will get better soon! And by better I only mean longer because it will be getting horribly depressing soon...Enjoy the chapter!

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Darkness. That was the only thing he could see. An all consuming darkness that seemed to wrap around his soul like a blanket. He was awake, he could feel it, but no matter how much effort he put into waking up fully it didn't happen. He couldn't hear the usual sounds that came with city living. The usual sound of cars on the street and people walking by below his bedroom window were non-existent. The only thing he was left with was silence and blackness. He opened his eyes, but the darkness didn't disappear. There should have been a light somewhere. He never went to sleep without leaving a light on somewhere in his room. Or he should have at least seen the light from the street signs outside his window. No, this darkness was clearly unnatural.

"Ramie." A voice reached him in the darkness, calling out his name. It sounded again, beckoning him out of the dark abyss he found himself in. The world around him began to come into focus, a dark face lingering in front of his.

Ramiel cried out, lashing at the person over him in a panic. It was never good when he was woken by anything other than his alarm clock. His mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion; his father had found out what he had done and was coming to punish him. No, his actions warranted more than just the usual beating, his father would be coming to _kill_ him this time. Ramiel continued thrashing, fighting the unknown threat. Begging for mercy; for a chance to live.

And then he was being restrained, his body being constricted by what felt like a straight jacket made of sandpaper. He looked down at himself, his fear rising even further. It wasn't sandpaper he felt, it was actual sand. Black sand encompassed his body, preventing him from hurting himself in his panicked state. He's seen that sand before, he'd recognize it anywhere.

"Pitch?" He asked aloud, unsure whether his eyes were deceiving him or not. The sand released him and the boogeyman materialized from the shadows, rubbing his chin where Ramiel had apparently landed a solid hit during his panic. He sat up and looked at his surroundings. He certainly wasn't anywhere he recognized; by the looks of things he was in a castle of sorts. "Where am I?"

"Welcome to my home, Ramie. Do you like it? I redecorated it only about a century or so ago."

Ramiel disregarded the question and asked another one of his own. "How did I get here?"

"I brought you here."

"Why?"

Pitch hesitated with his answer this time. "I told you I would protect you, Ramie." He said, a hint of sadness to his voice as he looked away from the confused boy. "Do you not remember what happened?" Ramiel shook his head, he had no idea what Pitch was talking about. "He must have knocked you in the head harder than I though." The Boogeyman said to himself with a sigh.

"Who? My dad?" He knew all the horrible things his father was capable of, but it still saddened him that he had to be taken away from his father.

"Oh, don't worry about him. You have me. I won't treat you the way he did." Pitch smoothed the boys hair back and sat on the floor next to him. "You're better off here. You'll be safe from him and anyone else who would try to hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you anymore Ramiel."


	3. Chapter 2

Clumsy hands reached, trying to grasp the darkness surrounding the room. The shadows danced and laughed, barely obeying the commands given, simply fooling around until a greater force were to take control. This was all so new, this aura of power he was supposed to project, this feeling of complete control he needed to grasp so quickly.

"Ramie," Pitch's cool voice broke through the concentration written so clearly on the boy's face, his eyes suddenly darting over. His hands flitted over the boys, grasping them to pull them closer to Ramie's chest. "Remember, confidence is the key. You control _them_, they do not control _you_."

Ramie nodded, his attention turning back to the corner of the room where the shadows awaited commandment. Breathe in, breathe out. Feel the shadows coat your inside, feel them slither in and out of every orifice. He could do this, he could learn the art of intoxicating, enthralling control. His movements were more swift, more confident in their nature, and while the shadows still danced, the moves were more synchronized. Not perfect, nowhere near the level Pitch had shown him at the beginning of the day, but still an improvement from the disgraceful movements of the morning.

Each time Ramie tried, each time he allowed more and more of the shadows to coat his inside, he gained a bit more control, a bit more confidence. They would occasionally listen, welcome him with open arms for a duration of time, before spitting him back out onto the floor with cackling laughter. Even if he couldn't hear the shadows, each time he got closer to understanding them, he could feel them. Feel their discomfort, feel their mischievous attitude, feel their hands slinking down his throat into his core to grasp him more and more each time. Control became simultaneously easier and more difficult- as he grew more comfortable with the shadows, he learned how they worked, how they wanted to be controlled, but as the shadows grew more comfortable with him, they rebelled, played tricks and tested how far he was willing to stretch himself.

He was just getting the hang of it, finally becoming one with the shadows, when something broke his concentration and he was spit back onto the unforgiving ground once again. It was a voice, but it wasn't Pitch, he wouldn't have broken the boy's concentration like that. No, this voice was unfamiliar, almost childlike. It rang out again, the sound reverberating around the large room and echoing in their ears. The voice had called Pitch's name and the owner of said voice certainly didn't sound like they were coming to have a calm chat. Ramiel looked up to Pitch for guidance, for some sort of explanation as to what was going on.

"Go back into the shadows." Pitch commanded, but his voice was more calm than demanding. His head was angled towards the direction the voice had come from, watching and waiting for its owner to appear through the archway. "Don't come out of the shadows until I tell you to."

Ramiel hesitated for only a moment before nodding his head in affirmation. He would do his best, but clearly he was no master. He mustered up all the force that he could, using all his might to surround himself with the shadows and force them to bring him into the darkness. They tried to rebel, to expel him into the room once again, but he could hear that Pitch was no longer alone. He couldn't let the shadows win this time, he had to rein them in and show them that he was in charge.

Any lapse in concentration would allow them to over take him and send him onto the hard concrete, and as much as he wanted to listen in on the conversation happening mere feet away, he knew he had to remain connected to the shadows. Push and pull, feel them coat and take over, feel the way their energy moved around him. He could do this, Ramiel _knew_ he could do this, he knew-

"We will not let you destroy the children!" The words, though muffled, still rang through his ears, pulling his thought process away from the shadows.

They snickered mischievously, spotting his mistake, and shoved him out, leaving him disoriented on the floor. It didn't take long to regain his senses and realize there were multiple pairs of eyes staring at him, and only one pair belonged to Pitch. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could do nothing but stare at the five, feet away from where he was, with their weapons drawn and prepared for a fight. The room filled with silence, all eyes still on the teenager sitting on the floor frozen. The confusion was palpable- they had not heard anything from The Man in the Moon about a new arrival, certainly not one that would be Pitch's disciple. If it was planned, they would have been warned about this! It was radio silence, however, no news had been heard about this boy and how he was created to begin with. If Manny wasn't responsible for this, then how…?

"Oh, don't be afraid of them. Come to me Ramie, my angel." Pitch cooed, motioning to the boy still flat on the concrete. It took but a second for him to scramble to his feet and regain his place next to Pitch. Ramie knew he had done it wrong, knew he had disobeyed when he shouldn't have, even if it was in a situation where it couldn't be helped.

"Pitch, you…. You kidnapped kid? What are you DOING!" North shouted, his hands tightening around his dual swords.

Before Ramie could stop himself and before words could even leave Pitch's mouth, his own spewed out at the five across the way. "Kidnap me? Who the hell are you to call Pitch a kidnapper? Pitch isn't like that. He's a good person. He would never have taken me if I didn't want to come here, if I didn't /need/ to come here. He saved me, so fuck you for calling him something as horrible as a kidnapper! Fuck you!" The moment Ramie finished his rant fear tightened his stomach into a know. He had spoken way out of turn and nothing good ever came from any previous outbursts he'd had in his life. "I'm sorry Pitch. I shouldn't have interrupted you." He tried to make up for what he'd done by apologizing in a rush.

"Oh hush, Ramie. You're too cute when you're angry. How could I possibly get upset with you for trying to defend me?" Ramie smiled in relief while Pitch ran his fingers through the boy's hair. The guardians, on the other hand, looked between each other with nothing but confusion written on their faces. They could not figure out what in the world was going on, had Pitch brainwashed the kid somehow? "I wasn't going to introduce you so soon, but since you found it necessary to break into my home, I guess now is as good a time as any.

Pitch continued to play with Ramie's hair absentmindedly as he introduced everyone. "Ramie, I would like to introduce you to the guardians: North, or as you may know him Santa Clause. Toothiana, the Tooth Fairy. Jack Frost, his name is self explanatory. Bunnymund, or the Easter Bunny. And the Sandman. Now, guardians, I would like to introduce all of you to my precious little Ramiel."

"Wait, they're actually real?" Ramiel stared at the guardians in disbelief. "Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny really exist?" His look of astonishment faded as their existence was confirmed. The loof of sorrow and pain that overtook the boy's features only served to confuse the guardians even further. In all of their experiences of being caught and seen by children, never had their presence caused the child anything but elation. "Why didn't any of you ever visit me?" The heartbreak could practically be heard in his voice as he asked the question that had been on his mind for years.

The three guardians who were being questioned exchanged looks amongst themselves before Toothiana finally stepped forward and spoke. "We visit all children of the world. Nobody gets left out. You must have been visited by us."

"But I wasn't! I never got any Christmas presents, or Easter eggs, or quarters when I lost my baby teeth! I barely even had any good dreams when I was growing up!" Ramiel's eyes briefly flickered down to the Sandman, but moved back up to the guardians who had been the cause of his (what? Upset? Is that the right word?). "Why wasn't I good enough to be visited by you guys?" Ramie looked between the three of them, waiting for some sort of explanation, but this time none of them had an answer for him. None of them would ever ignore a child, so how could it be possible that they hadn't ever visited him? "I believed in you for so long. I thought you would come one day, that I just had to be patient, but you never did. Why didn't I deserve to be happy? What did I do wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong Ramie. It's not your fault that the guardians have failed you." Pitch chimed in before anyone else could, sending a pointed glare in the guardians' direction.

Silence shrouded the room, tickling the ears of everyone in it. The Guardians stop, weapons still drawn but defensive poses dropped, processing the information, trying to recall him in their minds. There were so many children though! So many faces to see in one night, there was no way they could be 100% sure. The look of bewilderment on their faces sent a shiver of pleasure down Pitch's spine. They all looked so delectably moronic when stumped- but oh! How could he make this situation better, how could he relish the looks more, send them further into a state of absolute confusion? No- unless...

"Ramie, angel..." Pitch started, his voice low. Though the room was silent, only Ramie was close enough to hear the whispered words. A mischievous grin warped across his face, stretching his lips across his sharp teeth as his fingers looped through Ramie's hair. "Why don't you try and see if you have any more powers?" Ramie's eyes shifted over to the guardians at PItch's suggestion, scanning over the faces of each of them. He didn't know what Pitch was expecting him to do, he could barely control the shadows! But Pitch wanted him to try, and as much as he doubted himself, he knew he had to.

Ramie hesitated, his eyes darting back to Pitch full of hesitance. He didn't know what to do, what he was even _trying_ to accomplish here, and what would happen if he failed. He received a nod from the tall figure, prompting him to move forward. The Guardians resumed their defensive stances as he neared, weary of what Pitch might have said to him. They didn't strike, however, there was no need to strike if one was not made first, especially with a child they were already being accused of neglecting. They watched carefully, eyes following the dark haired boy until he finally stopped in front of Jack Frost.

In Ramie's mind, if he had some type of other powers, choosing Jack made the most sense. They were both male and similar in stature, posing a fair fight in case Jack decided to fight back against him. North was, well, North. Even if he hadn't been visited by Santa Claus since he was a child, he still held respect, and a small tinge of fear for the naughty list, in the bearded man. Bunny was much too tall, and while he didn't hold a personal vendetta against Sandy, it just didn't seem right. That left Tooth and Jack, and while he may have been a monster, he did have morals. If it rang true he did indeed have extra abilities, he would never inflict them upon a female.

He glanced back at Pitch once more, still unsure. Another nod of reassurance was cast in his direction and he turned back, his hands in the air mere inches from Jack's face. Would this even do anything? He used his hands to try to control the shadows, who's to say they weren't defective from all the blood spilled? Who's to say the mass amounts of crimson liquid hadn't short circuited them?

One fingertip after another grazed Jack's face, the light shaking of Ramie's hands becoming more noticeable as each touched down. His hands pushed against Jack's face, his full palm extended across his cheek. The action caused Jack's face to light up in bewilderment for a moment, before beginning to contort slowly into a more complex expression.

Jack could feel it- the tendrils licking across his face until finally settling in his eye sockets. It took only seconds for his vision to disappear, to be thrust into a nameless void that lacked senses, but he barely noticed. He was too focused on trying to process the emotions that swirled around him, entering every open orifice his body had to offer. It stuck to his bones, slithered inside his brain until he could feel it rotting from the inside out. He couldn't hear them, couldn't even see them, but could just _feel_ the venom coated words being spit at him, leaking into his emotion coated bones, settling where the marrow once was. He couldn't move, couldn't swat Ramie's hands away to break whatever he was doing. He could only succumb to the emotions running rampant inside his mind, to the words assaulting his body and breaking away his organs. He felt the pressure build up in his throat, and he couldn't tell if it was words, or if his body was trying to expel the wasted away innards.

Once the scream finally bubbled from Jack's throat, releasing the pressure in his body, it took less than a second for the Guardians to separate Ramie from Jack. Ramie stumbled backwards, dazed at the sudden movements and being suddenly ripped away from Jack's mind. Even with the demon hands gone, Jack hadn't regained his sight back, causing a slight panic to come over them all. North shot a look at Pitch, one that rang with a declaration of war, before quickly exiting the lair.

Pitch's laughter echoed against the wall, haunting and unusually hearty, as Ramie turned back around. "Well done!" Pitch complemented, crossing the few shorts strides between them. His fingers ran through the dark hair once more, the toothy grin ever present. "Now, I have a few errands I need to run, why don't you practice more with the shadows?" His fingertips fell down Ramie's face, lightly trailing across his cheek until his head bobbed up and down. The slender fingers fell from his face as Pitch stepped back into the shadows, being consumed until Ramie was alone again.

He tried to do as he was told, tried to immerse himself into the shadows once more, but could do nothing more than feel their hands whip around him carelessly. Something was tugging on his mind, threatening to pull everything open at the seams. As much as he tried, he couldn't quite grasp what the itching that was taking over every crevice of his brain was attributed to. Was it from learning that the Guardians actually DO exist and he was just ignored? Was it just being drained from overworking himself?

The shadows swirled under his fingers, wrapping up his body. Snickers filled the air around his head until the words leaked in, sending his blood running cold.

"You hurt someone. You still have blood all over."

Ramie felt his breath catch in his throat, blocked by the lump in his throat and his stomach threatening to heave acid all over the floor. No, that couldn't be true, he couldn't have hurt him! He _promised_ he wouldn't hurt another person- he COULDN'T hurt another person! No, they had to be lying, had to be part of the Guardians plot to break him into nothing but tiny pieces of rubble.

But the images flowed back into his mind, the contorted look of pain on his face, the scream that had come from his lips. Oh, how familiar it all was. How many times had he made the same face? How many times had he screamed the same scream until his throat went raw, until he could no longer talk and the only thing left he could do was croak and cry and wish he was dead? Everything melted together in his mind, smelting into a brick that sat heavy on his chest as it dawned on him- even in death, he was still a monster.

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A/N: Alright, we hope the length of this chapter makes up for the previous ones shortness. Also, we plan on posting a new chapter every Thursday, however, both of us are going on vacation around the same time soon. We aren't sure whether or not we will have internet access, so don't be surprised if we miss an update soon. Since we won't be together or able to talk to each other for two weeks while we're away, we may not get to post chapter 3 for a while. We do have a nice little filler prepared in case that happens. It won't have much to do with the current story line, but it will give a bit of insight into Ramie's past. A filler is better than no updates at all right? Anyway, don't be afraid to let us know how we're doing and give us any thoughts you have on the chapter.


	4. Filler 1

A/N: Alright! We were planning on posting chapter 3 before posting the first filler, but it just didn't happen that way. So here is our first filler! The fillers will most likely all be written from Ramie's POV (btw, the A in his name is pronounced more like an E. So it's pronounced Remmy-el. Probably should have said that in the beginning, but we forgot.) I also want to apologize if parts of this seem a little forced. With my co-writer in Ohio without internet, I had no one to pass the writing onto when I lost inspiration. I think it came out decently well though. Anyway, enjoy! And don't be afraid to leave a review, even if it's not a happy one. We love reading your thoughts!

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The first time I met my father, I remember being really scared. Not at first, but it didn't take long for the fear to find me. I don't remember how old I was; four? Probably more like five. Either way, I was old enough to walk home from Sunday school by myself. It wasn't really a walk, it was more of a skip. I was so excited to get home that morning. It was my mom's birthday, or as it's better known as: mother's day. We had made cards for our mothers that morning. I just couldn't wait to give her mine. I even added a "Happy Birthday Mommy" on the front, with the teachers help of course. I knew she would love it. She loved everything I made for her, the front of our fridge proved that.

My happy-go-lucky skipping was interrupted when I reached the edge of the sidewalk. This was the only part of my walk home that required me to cross the street. I pressed the big red button that would make the walk symbol appear across the street and waited just like my mom had taught me. I never did make it across that street. I was intercepted by a tall man just as the light changed. He looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place his face.

"Hey champ, what'cha go there?" he smiled, looking completely harmless.

"It's a card for my mom! It's her birthday today! And I made it all by myself!" I beamed, so proud of my mom's gift.

"Wow, I bet she'll love it! Now, why don't you come with me and we'll give it to her later?" He seemed friendly enough, but I knew better.

"Oh no, I can't do that!" I told him as if he didn't know there was anything wrong with the situation.

"Why not?"

"Mommy said to neeever go with strangers. I could get into trouble!"

"Stranger? You don't remember me?" This seemed to upset him, but I was honest and shook my head 'no' anyway. There was still that nagging feeling that I had seen him somewhere before, but where? "Oh well, it doesn't matter. Your mom sent me to get you." I still hesitated. He seemed to want me to go _away_ from my house. If I followed him that way I wouldn't be able to give my mom her card. Getting that card to her was the only thing I was concerned with, so when he reached for my hand I took a few steps back.

"I can't go with you. I have to give my mom her birthday card!" I told him, clutching the precious card close to my chest.

"Don't worry, you'll be able to give her the card soon." He used my name then; my real name. It's been so long since I've heard my real name that I can't remember what it is. I don't even know how he could have known it then. Maybe he was my neighbor and had heard my name around the neighborhood before. Or maybe he had just followed me around long enough to find out all of the small details like that. No matter how he knew it, just the fact that he knew my name made me feel safer around him; made me trust him that much more. "Your mom just had to run to the store real quick, so she asked me to take you to my house to watch you until she got back. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

He ran his fingers through my hair, which at that time was a bleached blond color. It didn't feel the same as when my mom did it though. When my mom did it, it felt comforting and loving. When he did it, it felt…well, I didn't know what that feeling was at the time, but it just felt _wrong_. I so young though. At that age, I didn't have the mental capacity to think of the consequences that could come with trusting this stranger. So I took his hand and let him lead me to his house. He actually lived relatively close to my house; only a block or two away. My mom and I had passed his house many times on our daily walk around the neighborhood. Maybe that's how he knew me?

Most of his possessions were packed away in brown card board boxes, leaving out only the items that were too large to be packed. Once the front door was closed and locked, he asked me if I was hungry and I just shrugged. Now that I was in a new house without my mother, I felt overcome with shyness. He led me to the kitchen where he plopped me at the table in front of a large plate of cookies. I stared at the plate with wide eyes. Never had I seen so many cookies in one place before.

"Are…are these for me?" I looked up at his grinning face and felt a smile of my own twitching at my lips.

"Only if you like chocolate chips."

"I love chocolate chips!" I shouted, bouncing up and down excitedly at the prospect of having an entire plateful of cookies all to myself, but there was something missing. "Can I have a glass of milk, please?"

"Of course you can." He spoke as he moved towards the fridge. He gave me a tall glass with more milk than I'd _ever_ drank in one sitting before. There were a lot of cookies to dunk though, so there was no doubt in my mind that I would use every drop of the milk.

"Thank you!" I said, remembering my mom's constant reminders to be polite. I didn't want her to be disappointed if she ever found out that I hadn't been polite. After that was said, it took no time at all for me to dive into the snack in front of me.

The cookies were delicious! Best I'd ever had. Better, dare I say, than the ones my mom made. I was halfway through with the plate when I started to feel drowsy. I slowed down my eating as my eyelids drooped, feeling much heavier than they usually did. And then my fingers stopped working. They wouldn't clench tight enough to keep hold of the cookie I was holding and it dropped to the ground. I remember getting off the chair to clean up the cookie; mom always said to clean up after myself, I shouldn't expect anyone to clean up my messes for me. My legs worked just about as well as my hands and I fell right to the ground when I tried to stand. From there I couldn't get up, couldn't move, couldn't even stay conscious, and so I felt myself dragged into the black abyss of sleep.

Everything was still fuzzy when I finally felt myself coming back the real world. Things were still black around the edges; the names of anything I could see didn't pop into my head like usual. Instead, everything seemed foreign – like I had been ripped from my world and plopped into a new one where English didn't process in my mind.

It didn't seem like my eyes were working any better than my brain was. I was facing what seemed to be a closet with mirrors as their sliding doors, but the boy looking back wasn't me, he _couldn't _be me. His face looked like mine and he blinked at the same time as me, however, his hair and eyes were both brown. My hair was supposed to be blond and my eyes blue; there was no way the reflection in that mirror could be me!

As my mind cleared of some of its fuzziness, I moved my fingers to see what I was laying on and they twisted into some soft blankets. The boy in the mirror grabbed onto the blankets in his bed too, but I still wasn't convinced that we were the same person. My arms were week, and slightly unsteady, when I attempted to push myself away from the mattress. I somehow found the strength to sit up and so did the boy in the mirror. That's when it hit me that what I was seeing may actually be real and not just a figment of my imagination. Though my vision blurred and twisted with every movement, I clumsily crawled off the bed to sit right in front of the mirror. The reflection was me, but _how_? I leaned in very close to the mirror to get a better look at my eyes. How could they be a different color? My first instinct was to poke at them, but that was painful so I returned to just staring.

I unconsciously brought my hand up to rest on the cold surface in front of me. Yep, that was definitely a mirror. It wasn't a tv, it wasn't an illusion, and it certainly wasn't a separate room with another boy in it. My hands found their way to my hair next. It stayed in place and hurt when I tugged at it, so it was real. It felt strange to the touch though. It wasn't exactly greasy; it had that feeling that it gets when you don't wash all of the shampoo out in the shower. Other than the new colors, the rest of me looked pretty much the same. I had on the same while button up shirt and khaki pants that I typically wore to church. The only thing off about my clothes were my shoes. They were missing.

My gawking was soon interrupted by the sound of heavy footfalls in the hallway. That's when the fear found a tight hold on my stomach. I had no idea where I was or who could possibly be on the other side of the door. Oh how I wished I had listened more closely to the stranger danger lectures in school, maybe they could have helped me out. This was no time to judge the personal choices I had made in my short life; this was a time to hide and I had to do it fast. I tore my eyes away from the reflection in the mirror so they could dart around the room, but it was bare. Besides the bed, there was no other furniture. I could either hide under the bed or in the closet; both of them being the very obvious places to look.

I didn't have time to hide anyway. The lock on the door clicked and then there he was, standing in the doorway. It was the same man who had taken me to his house from the street corner. For a moment my fear turned to relief at the familiar face. The fear soon came crawling back upon the realization that he had locked me in a room all alone.

"You're finally awake." He said it as if I had been asleep for an entire week. Now that I thought about it, how long had I been asleep?

"Where's my mom?" My voice was shaky from the tears invading my eyes. I was so scared and confused. All I wanted to do was give my mom her card and hug her until I felt safe again, if I ever could.

He sighed and said my name sadly, like he knew some secret that would upset me further. After only a few short steps, he was behind me and sitting heavily, making the bedspring creak loudly. "Don't worry about your mom. You're going to be staying with me from now on."

"No! I don't want to live with you! I want my mom back!" The tears sprang free from their holding cell then, running down my face in long lines. How could this man just take me away from my mom? I didn't even know his name, how could he hold so much control over my life?

"I'm sorry, but your mom doesn't want you back. She said she doesn't love you anymore, so she asked if you could be _my_ son now." I didn't believe him, not for one second. My mom had told me that she loved me just that morning, there was no way she had changed her mind. It still hurt to hear him say it though. "Don't be too upset. We're moving to a nice new house soon and I know you'll just love it there. We'll think of a new name for you too; I've always liked the name Ramiel."

"But I want to go home." I sobbed, my head falling into my hands.

"Your home is with me now."

"No, I want my mommy." My five year old brain thought that if I repeated it enough, he would listen.

"Forget about your mom." He said it nonchalantly, as if it was an easy thing to do.

"And what if I don't?" I yelled back defiantly. How could someone forget about their mom? I was determined to remember her; determined to get back to her any way that I could.

"You will."

And he was right. I have no idea what my mom looked like. Smelled like. Sounded like. I can't remember a single thing about her. Sometime, if I concentrate hard enough, I think I can remember, but her image always dances just outside of my mind's reach. That leads me to wonder if, maybe, he was right about other things too. Maybe I was a very naïve kid. Maybe I had just imagined all the nice things I thought she did for me. Maybe, she never did love me.


End file.
